


Metanoia

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bechdel Test Pass, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, LGBTQ Female Character, Memory Loss, POV Female Character, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of both Cora's death and her own torture at the hands of Owen/Greg Mendel, Regina finds herself on a journey to self-discovery and redemption while trying to juggle a life with Emma and their son, as well as the intense scrutiny of the entire town.  Will the love that Emma and Henry have for her be enough to help Regina get past the mental blocks that are preventing her from fully realizing her wish for redemption and atonement?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Querencia

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 11 March 2013 - 18 April 2014  
> Word Count: 15189  
> Written for: [Swan Queen Big Bang](http://swanqueenbigbang.tumblr.com)'s April 2014 round  
> Summary: In the aftermath of both Cora's death and her own torture at the hands of Owen/Greg Mendel, Regina finds herself on a journey to self-discovery and redemption while trying to juggle a life with Emma and their son, as well as the intense scrutiny of the entire town. Will the love that Emma and Henry have for her be enough to help Regina get past the mental blocks that are preventing her from fully realizing her wish for redemption and atonement?  
> Spoilers: While this mostly follows S2, there is information used from S3, particularly with relation to ep 03x09, "Saving Henry"  
> Genre: AU- Canon Divergence, certain major plot points of S2 do not exist [e.g. no "Home Office" stuff that leads back to Pan/Neverland in S3, Tamara is just Neal's fiancée, Greg Mendel tried to detonate a nuclear device in the mines instead of Regina's "failsafe" black diamond  
> Warnings: No standard AO3 warnings, but there is talk of prior major character deaths [as in they're dead before the story has started, per canon], torture, abuse, suicide ideation  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: This story is one that has been a long time in the making. It was first created for [villainbigbang](http://villainbigbang.livejournal.com), but the lack of communication within that entire exchange didn't help with the issues I was having in writing this piece. Then I decided to adjust the scope a bit to make it a "5 times" story for [fivetimesbb](http://fivetimesbb.livejournal.com), but that didn't pan out either. A lot of my issue with this story revolved around the confrontation in what's now Chapter 6. I have been struggling with that whole setup for well over a year now. Even now, I'm not sure I was able to properly convey how it played out in my head, but I've done the best I could.
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Beta: [](http://shatterpath.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://shatterpath.dreamwidth.org/)**shatterpath** had the daunting task of making sure that everything here made sense. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

_metanoia  
\-- (n) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life_

_querencia  
\-- (n) a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self_

"I think perfection is ugly. Somewhere in the things humans make, I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion."  
               -- Yohji Yamamoto

(06-10-2013)

"Motherfucker!"

Glancing up at the curse coming from my kitchen, I save the document I'm drafting and head out of my office. Before I can step foot into the kitchen, her voice filters out into the foyer again.

"Gina, don't you dare come in he-- shit!"

"Please tell me you're not thoroughly destroying my kitchen, Emma," I call from where I stand. I want to go see what she's doing, but I promised not to ruin whatever surprise she has planned for me. Taking a deep breath, the scents of citrus and spicy peppers waft across my palate. There's something else, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Not destroying your kitchen, Madam Mayor," she calls out, undoubtedly with a broad smirk on her face. "Go back to what you were doing and I'll call you when it's ready. Shouldn't be too much longer."

Rolling my eyes, I head back to my office. Try as I might, I simply cannot focus on the document I'm drafting for Snow's perusal. This City Planner position that she's given me is strange. The duties are so similar to what I used to do as Mayor, just without the power involved. Everything I do must be scrutinized and verified by Snow and her little war council. I don't care that she doesn't call them that, they are all people who'd been on her actual war council in the Enchanted Forest and that has not been lost on me.

The worst part of this whole situation is that I have to submit to weekly sessions with both Doctor Hopper and Reul Ghorm. The former reports generically to Snow about my mental state, the latter very specifically about my magical state. Interestingly enough, my magical state is often a topic for discussion in my sessions with the former. I'm sure those meetings would be far more fascinating if I weren't the subject of scrutiny. Or perhaps not. I never enjoyed the town council meetings before, and I certainly don't enjoy them now.

Rubbing at my temples to try to quell the headache growing again only makes me hiss in pain as the tender contact points from Owen's little ECT sessions are inflamed once again. I've been told that the pain shouldn't still be happening, that it's clearly all in my head, but I know those idiots don't have a clue what they're talking about it. It's not like any of them have been on the receiving end of all that electricity, particularly those that possess any shred of magic in this tainted land. Then again, their medical degrees are nonexistent, so their lack of assistance to me is more than apparent.

I'm not even sure why I got up this morning. The nightmares were back again in full force, or so I've gathered from Emma's overly solicitous questions this morning after the alarm went off. One side effect of the electrical torture is that I don't remember my dreams any longer. I still don't know whether or not this is a good thing. How can I combat the nightmares, attempt any sort of directed dreaming, if I have absolutely no idea what it is that's happening or when it begins? When I explain that this is getting to be a more regular occurrence, I know that Archie Hopper will jump at the chance to delve into unconscious and repressed fears and motivations. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he gets aroused by the conundrum that is my current situation. Then again, that would make him no better than Whale, and I'm not sure I can even contemplate that possibility.

Shaking my head, I attempt to quell the spasming pain in my temples by taking another sip of my lukewarm coffee. The report needs to be finished before I can truly call it a day. The war council won't stand for me to get any kind of slack for emotional pain and anguish. I know full well that they all prefer to see me debilitated and suffering. A mirthless chuckle escapes my lips at the thought of just how hypocritical they truly are, the sound morphing into a low moan that reverberates through my aching skull. 

"Just a moment," I murmur to myself, eyes fluttering shut as I attempt a few deep breathing exercises to find my center. The pain has to recede. I can't have the distraction, not now when everything is hinging on my compliance to the demands of Snow and her war council.

Before I know it, a knock at the door startles me out of my reverie. Glancing up, my eyes are drawn to the sparkle in knowing green eyes as she asks, "Whatcha doing, babe?"

My eyes fall to the monitor, where the words haven't changed since before I'd walked away, then to the notepad on my desk. It's covered with doodles: limes, lemons, avocados, chilies, onions, shrimp, hearts. Not surprising, given what I'd so briefly smelled from the kitchen. Well, the hearts are a bit of an outlier, particularly the greater concentration of damaged ones. But it's the scribbled words that lure me in.

"Help me help myself."

"What was that?" Emma asks, taking a step into the room. She closes the door behind her and leans against it.

"Just something I apparently was doodling while waiting for you to finish destroying my kitchen. I suppose it'll be fascinating to Archie Hopper at our next appointment." I can't help the sarcasm lacing my voice. Better this than making her worry about pains that shouldn't exist any longer.

Emma chuckles softly and holds out a hand toward me. "Why don't you leave that for now and come get something to eat? You sound like your blood sugar's a little low. I made something really special for you. First time I've made it and it's really good."

Curiosity wins out, pushing me out of my chair. She grabs my hand, brushing a sweet kiss against my lips, then guides me toward the kitchen. As I cross the threshold from office to foyer, there's a lightness to my step that I haven't felt all day. I'm quite sure the tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen are helping, particularly when my stomach growls loudly. The blush on my face is probably visible from space, but Emma just grins at me over her shoulder and says nothing. As we near the kitchen, she turns to face me and licks her lips, almost a nervous gesture.

"Close your eyes, Gina. I want this to be a surprise." Before I can even register the request fully, she quickly adds, "I swear I won't let you walk into the doorframe or anything like that."

Eyes narrowing at the idea of being led into a wall, I search her face for any signs of duplicity. Finding none, my only reply is to close my eyes and squeeze her hand. She hesitates long enough to press a gentle kiss to my lips, then leads me into the kitchen. The spicy, citrusy aroma is much stronger now, making my mouth water in anticipation. Maybe that blood sugar assessment isn't so off the mark after all. Emma sets our combined hands on the back of one of the chairs at the island, an obvious cue to have a seat. Obliging, I settle and lace my fingers together, hands and forearms resting on the counter.

"All right, babe, one more request before you open your eyes." She clears her throat, then the delectable scent draws closer, and I know her request before she asks it. "Open up, please?"

Without hesitation, I open my mouth, hoping I don't drool too badly before she puts the food in my mouth. That scent gets closer, and an explosion of flavors coats my tongue. The heat of Thai chilies is offset by the tang of fresh lime juice. The tomato has just a hint of sweetness brought out by the mellow, buttery avocado. And then I focus on the stars of the dish: shrimp and calamari. Chewing slowly, the texture is incredible, perfectly blending with the various flavors. I swallow and lick my lips slowly, letting a small moan escape.

"Please tell me that's a good reaction and I didn't just give you food poisoning or something."

The traces of uncertainty in her voice warm my heart and remind me again why I fell in love with her. Her face comes into focus as my eyelids flutter open again, and I reach out to cup her cheek with a smile. 

"Perhaps you should give me another taste," I reply, voice thick with emotions I can't -- or won't -- name just yet. "I definitely need a second exposure before I can give you a proper assessment."

*****

Candlelight flickers, faintly illuminating the bathroom and making interesting patterns only sensed through my closed eyelids. Shifting slightly, I attempt to alleviate the crick in my neck before settling back against the inflated pillow cushioning my skull from the unforgiving porcelain of tub and tile. The scents of beeswax and lavender vie for my nose's attention, highlighting the mellow notes of lavender and honeysuckle in the glass of wine at my side. A slow, deep breath settles me further into myself as I let the soft sounds of rain and the ocean surf coming from my iPod calm and soothe me. The report's finally done and I can hand it off to Snow in the morning, which allows me the opportunity for this lovely soak in the tub.

"Hey, beautiful."

Her soft words bring me from the light trance I've fallen into. A smile curls up the corners of my lips at the welcome intrusion. "Hey yourself."

"Henry just turned in, so I thought I'd see how you're doing." She slips further into the room, leaving the door cracked open just slightly, and settles on the toilet next to me.

"He got his homework done then?" The husky, sleep-slurred quality of my voice further illustrates just how much I needed this solitary soak.

"He got as much research done as he could, but he was yawning his head off, so I told him to call it a night." She holds up a hand before I can even part my lips. "And yes, I know I shouldn't let him shirk his homework, but it's a summer school class _and_ he's actually ahead of the rest of his class, so it seemed okay."

Her earnest expression makes me laugh, and I lazily raise a hand toward her. "It's fine, Emma. I happen to know that his teachers all fear his mother and adore his grandmother. I think he'll be fine. I've already promised him some time this weekend to work on the report itself."

"You're not that parent that does the work for the kid, are you?" she teases, a subtle smile playing across her lips.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and scoff, "If that was the case, the report would already be done, complete with a detailed appendix of resources used and several graphs and illustrations."

That makes her laugh loudly. The sound is music to my ears, even as it echoes off the walls and makes my temples ache just a bit. No matter what I'm feeling, she's able to bring out hope. "My savior," I murmur softly, eyes fluttering shut briefly. Her laughter dies off, replaced by the rustling of her clothes just before her fingers touch my hand.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Just tired, I guess." It's not exactly a lie. Ever since Owen -- Greg, whatever he wants to call himself -- tried to play catch the lightning with my body, I've been tired far more easily. "I'm sure Archie will be thrilled to delve into the intricacies of my sleep habits when we meet again later this week."

"You know he's only trying to help, right?" she asks and I can only shrug in reply. "Do you want some company in there? Or am I disturbing your alone time?"

Shaking my head, I'm startled by the sudden sting of tears in my eyes at the thought of being left alone again. "Don't go," I whisper as my hand turns to grip hers tightly, needing the reassurances yet again that this is real, that it's not some weird feedback loop of wishful thinking while Owen tortures me with more electricity coursing through my body. Her fingers twine with mine, squeezing back just as tightly, and I'm anchored again in the moment.

"Let me have my hand back, okay?" She smiles encouragingly when I open my eyes to stare at her. "I kinda need it to get undressed and join you. I mean, unless you want me to wear my clothes in the tub. That'll just mean a huge sodden mess to clean up later though."

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escapes my lips as I release my death grip on her hand. My eyes avidly track hers as she stands up, close enough for me to reach out and touch her thigh for reassurance if I need it. That broad, encouraging smile doesn't falter and her eyes remain trained on mine as each layer of her clothing is discarded in a pile behind her. My eyes briefly leave hers repeatedly to take in each new swath of exposed skin until she's as naked as I am.

"Sit up, Gina," she says softly, waiting until I do to step into the tub behind me.

Once again I'm grateful for the way the curse was cast to give me this huge tub in the master bath. Settling behind me, she groans as the hot water caresses her skin much as it had done to me when I first stepped in. After a moment of acclimation, she reaches forward, hands resting gently against my stomach to pull me back against her chest. My head rests back on her shoulder, turning slightly so I can nuzzle at her neck. The scent of leather and Emma blends with the beeswax and lavender to soothe my frazzled nerves even more.

"Can we just stay here forever?" I whisper against her skin, arms settling happily over hers on my stomach.

She doesn't answer immediately, but I can feel the smile as she brushes her lips across my forehead. One hand gently rubs circles on my stomach as the other glides up to rest over my heart. A soft sigh escapes my lips as I can feel her heartbeat against my back, eyes fluttering shut again. We sit in silence for several moments, my anxiety ebbing with each crashing wave on the iPod. Sleep beckons with the oblivion of the rest I clearly need, but the unknown nightmares taunt me from the edges of consciousness.

"Shh, it's okay, Gina. You're safe. I'm right here and I'm never going to leave you alone to deal with any of this, I promise."


	2. Tacenda

_tacenda  
\-- (n) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence_

(06-27-2013)

"So why don't you tell me about these doodles of yours, Regina."

Pursing my lips, I shrug and press further back into the corner of the sofa in his office. I'm loath to admit, even to myself, that I've become accustomed to these weekly meetings with the cricket. But if I want to continue to prove that I won't cause any issues with the people in this town, or want to keep the job that I look forward to far more than I probably should, I will suffer the indignity of discussing my feelings with him every Thursday afternoon from two to three.

"Snow White, as usual, needs to keep her mouth shut," I snap, more embarrassed than angry. "Better yet, her daughter needs to remember what I tell her in confidence."

He doesn't even bother to hide his smile at that. And then I realize that I've just admitted once again that my barriers dropped enough to let in the blonde Savior when she got back from the Enchanted Forest with her mother. No, when I rescued them. Well, I didn't rescue them so much as suck up all of that damnable fairy dust intended to kill my mother if she passed through… The grief at my mother's death is still as sharp and fresh as the day she died. It doesn't matter that she's been d-- _gone_ for the better part of four months now. It takes everything in me to hold the tears at bay. I refuse to break down about it in front of him again. I don't want to talk about it, don't want to face that compassionate face and the gentle voice telling me that grief is a natural part of life and that it'll get better with time.

"Regina?"

"She shouldn't have died."

The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I was thinking them. My eyelids fall shut in a combination of sadness and self-loathing. The telltale scratching of pen against paper is all I hear for what feels like an eternity before he clears his throat.

"Who shouldn't have died?"

"You aren't so dimwitted that you need to ask that question," I say, getting up to pace to the window that looks down onto Main Street. I can see Ruby lounging in front of Granny's on her break. "You know perfectly well who I'm talking about, Dr. Hopper. Really, aren't we past that sort of thing by now?"

"And aren't we past you calling me 'Dr. Hopper', Regina? We've been having these sessions for the better part of a year now. There was a time when you were willing to forego the formalities of my title. What's happened to change that again?"

What _has_ happened to change that again? Only my mortification at the thought of opening up to this man about what it is that I need but cannot admit. Only my desire to be the kind of person that my son and lover want to have in their lives. Only my need for atonement for crimes that cannot be atoned for. Only my entire existence.

"This is ridiculous." I turn around and grab for my purse. "We're done here."

I'm barely halfway to the door when his voice stops me. "If you walk out that door, Regina, I'll have to tell Snow that you've broken the stipulations of your employment agreement. I know you don't want to give up your job, regardless of how demeaning you protest all of this is for you."

The edge of steel in his tone isn't so much a surprise as it's a necessity. He knows too well that he can't use it often, just as the consummate chef understands the use of spice as an accent rather than the focus of the dish. Rooted to my spot, I can feel myself shaking with the effort of the internal war of fight or flight raging right now. Finally, I sigh and move to take my place on the couch again, pointedly not meeting his gaze.

"You know, it wouldn't take much for me to just give in and become the Evil Queen again," I say, wincing at the petulance in my tone. I can't even pull off a decent condescension right now. That part of me that is still _Her_ laughs derisively at me and my weakness.

"No, I know that it wouldn't. But I also know that you won't do it."

That brings my gaze up to stare at him curiously. Oh, I let a healthy portion of disgust and derision show, even if they're aimed at myself more than at him. I can't stand that parts of me are willing to just roll over and show my submission to these people for even a tiny scrap of acceptance.

"She certainly taught me well," I mutter, eyes shifting uncomfortably to my hands in my lap in order to avoid his kind gaze at the mention of my mother again. "Look, I just… I'd rather not talk about her right now."

"Then we won't talk about her," he says with a smile and jots something else onto his ubiquitous yellow legal pad. What I wouldn't give to know exactly what he's writing about me. "How about we talk about your doodles instead?" When I groan and scrub at my face, he chuckles. "You didn't think I'd let it go that easily, did you, Regina?"

Instead of answering him, I reach into my purse and pull out a manila folder. I stare at it for a moment or two before handing it to him. The urge to flee is strong again as he takes it and flips through the sheets of paper within. Just watching him study each page reminds me how many of them are in that damned folder. I cannot believe that I've been wasting so much time creating them, let alone that I've kept every single one of them. The designs change in each one, depending on my external stimuli at the time, but the words are always the same: "Help me help myself."

"These are quite fascinating, Regina," he finally says and starts to hand the folder back. "Now, if I give these back to you, you won't destroy them, right?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and yank the folder back to stuff it in my purse again. "If I was going to destroy them, I'd have done it already. Emma seems to think they're important, but I feel they're just another symptom of my intense boredom with all of this enforced therapy and such. I really should just turn them into tinder for my fireplace."

He nods at my words, scribbling more of my deficiencies on that pad of his. "And yet you've kept them _and_ shown them to me mostly willingly. I think that's very telling, Regina. Perhaps you really do want help to change your ways and prove that you've left the Evil Queen behind."

My lips part to retort, but nothing comes out. Could he be right? I don't want to be _Her_ any longer. I never really wanted to be _Her_ in the first place. Anyone who actually takes just five minutes to get to know me should be able to understand that. But no one here wants to do that. It's easier to just leave me in the category of unredeemable villain. They need someone to blame, after all, don't they? No one wants to help me.

"You know that's not true of everyone here, Regina."

His words startle me. Damn it! Was I thinking out loud again? Scrubbing at my face, I let out a frustrated sigh. "Isn't it? Let's be realistic, Doctor. I'm the reason all of you are here. I took all of your memories from you for twenty-eight years. I separated families and friends at whim, solely so I could wreak havoc and gloat over the fact that you had no clue whatsoever that it was happening. I did everything I could to ensure that the curse wouldn't break. And why do you think that is?"

"Because you wanted the opportunity to have a second chance."

Damn him. "No, I wanted all of you to suffer. I wanted to _win_ , don't you see?"

He gestures with his pen toward my purse. "And yet that folder of papers would indicate otherwise, Regina, as would things like saving Snow and Emma from the fairy dust in the well and countless other things that probably none of us realize or connect to you." He shifts in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you made sure that we were all still here to be freed when the curse finally did break. In twenty-eight years, only one person died--"

"Two."

"I thought we weren't talking about your mother?"

Pursing my lips, I glare at him. "Get your facts straight, bug. She died after the curse broke, as you well know, just as D--" I take a deep breath, fighting the pain of losing him again. "Just as Daniel did. I wasn't talking about them."

"Ahh." He leans back again, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Greg Mendel's father then? But he wasn't a part of the curse."

"No, he wasn't," I say, suddenly standing to pace toward the window. "But he was collateral damage that shouldn't have happened."

"Meaning?"

I don't answer him for long moments, staring out the window again. Ruby's no longer out front, so her break must be over. But there's Emma walking down the block from the station toward Granny's. A small smile plays at the corners of my lips. She's right on time to get to the diner and order us a late lunch, her way of showing the rest of the town that they don't need to be so fearful of me. More importantly, the time spent together is meant to give me a chance to resettle in my skin after these sessions. The same happens after my sessions with Reul Ghorm.

Just the thought of those sessions brings on the dull throb of an impending headache. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I've developed a nasty tendency toward migraines. Perhaps that's a side effect of Owen's attempts to cook my brain for his dinner. Fingers gently massage my left temple; a bright flare of pain blossoming from the contact causes a small whimper to escape my lips.

And then, nothing…

*****

"Gina?"

I groan, the sound loud in my own head, just as her voice is. Curling into the soft warmth under my cheek, I try to ignore the coppery tang coating my tongue. I can smell leather and the laundry detergent I use. "Emma?"

"Hey there," she says softly, stroking my cheek. "Come on back to us. Can you open those pretty eyes for me?" I shake my head, the movement triggering a lurching sensation in the pit of my stomach, and whimper. "Shh, okay. Just relax now."

There's a rustling noise behind me, then a cool cloth gently settles on my forehead, followed by a second against the back of my neck just a bit later. The sensation, combined with Emma's body cradling mine close, goes a long way toward calming me.

"Archie, what's wrong with her? Does this have something to do with the nightmares and the whole thing with Greg Mendel torturing her?"

Archie begins to drone on, but even his soft tones hurt to listen to. Instead, I concentrate on the familiar beating of Emma's heart. The sound grounds me into myself, letting me take slow, deep breaths as I grip her tank top tightly for balance. As I work to re-center myself, some of the conversation filters in: repressed memories or complete loss of some portions of them; possible permanent physical damage from the ECT; issues with the electricity mixing with the unpredictability of magic in this land. All I can glean from the discussion is that I'm even more defective now than I was before. And that Archie wants to bump up my sessions and possibly try medication and hypnosis to help me get past this impasse I've reached.

Tears spill down my cheeks as Mama's voice layers over his, alternately telling me how damaged I am and how I'd have been enough for her if she'd only kept her heart all those years. But she didn't keep her heart, did she? And now she's gone. I'll never get the chance to know her love for more than those fleeting seconds before she died in my arms.

Grief overwhelms me and, rather than deal with it, I let the darkness swallow me whole again.


	3. Wabi-Sabi

_wabi-sabi  
\-- (n) a concept, an aesthetic, and a worldview. simply, an intuitive way of living that emphasizes finding beauty in imperfection, and accepting the natural cycle of growth and decay._

(07-08-2013)

"Hey, Mom, have you finished looking over that report of mine yet? It's getting late and I want to make sure I get enough of it copied again before I go to bed."

Glancing up at the door to my office, I grimace at the time, then at Henry's earnest face. "Sorry, dear, I'm almost done with it."

He grins broadly when I motion him forward. "So did it make sense? I really tried to take your suggestions from the last draft and use them this time around." He chews at his bottom lip for a moment. "You know, ever since the curse broke and Gramma stopped being my teacher, I've been getting harder assignments. Not that I haven't been able to do them, because I have and my grades haven't fallen again. I just find it interesting, I guess."

I can hear his words, but don't know what to say. Emma's commented on his assignments being harder than she remembered at the same age, but I haven't had anything to compare them to even to play devil's advocate. Bringing them up with Snow hasn't exactly been something that seemed appropriate, since she gave up teaching completely to become the de facto leader of this town that used to be mine. Not that I blame her for it, but she _had_ actually been a good teacher and mentor to Henry. Of course, I'd never admit that to her face, but I kind of wish he was still studying with her. Perhaps I can have Emma suggest to her mother the possibility of training Henry in matters of state. I certainly don't like the idea of my son being singled out, regardless of his intellectual levels, simply because he's my son and Snow's grandson.

"Um, Mom? Why'd you illustrate my report?"

His curious tone pulls me out of my thoughts to really look at the paper in front of me. I resist the urge to tear the page into pieces, choosing instead to focus on the designs this time. Geometric lines surround the ever-present "Help me help myself" along the left margin of the paper. For once, the design has nothing to do with the content of the paper it's on. I'm not exactly sure what that means.

"Oh, Henry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your report."

He grins and presses a kiss to my cheek. I can tell by the look on his face that it wasn't planned, but I wouldn't dream of stopping him from doing it. He's been far more affectionate and demonstrative since that whole debacle with Owen, combined with meeting his father and stepmother-to-be. He and Emma think I don't know that there have been fights at school about me. Despite me doing everything I can to prove that I'm not that person any longer, they just don't care. They take it out on Henry, who has had absolutely nothing to do with me being the Evil Queen in the past. It's not fair to him.

"I'm rewriting it anyway, so I don't mind." He traces the designs with a fingertip. "Do-- Um, do you want this page back when I've copied it? I know you have that folder for Archie…"

My mouth opens and closes a couple of times, unable to formulate an answer. Even though he's reassured me more times than I can count that he no longer is as angry with me for making him see the cricket, I can't help but feel the silent rebuke anyway. I hurt him in ways that I can never make up for, no matter what I try to do. Just one more thing to add to the list of grievances and sins that I've perpetrated over the course of my life, none of which I can truly atone for.

"Mom?" He tugs at my hand, and I blink up into eyes so like his mother's and grandmother's. "Come here."

I let him pull me from my chair before guiding me over to the couch. He motions for me to sit on the middle cushion, which I do immediately despite my own curiosity. Or maybe it's _because_ of my curiosity. I'm honestly not sure anymore of anything. As I sit there, I study his face. He's putting on a growth spurt again. I can see the slight chubbiness to his cheeks giving way to a leaner, less boyish face. His body is following suit as I take note of the excess skin showing at ankles and wrists. Time for another shopping spree, I guess. Will he still want to go with me?

The sudden movement of his hand in front of my face alerts me to the fact that I've drifted off on him again. Damn it! Why do I keep losing time like this? I can feel my face flushing from the embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Henry. I…" I have no words to explain what's happening.

He simply smiles and moves to sit next to me. Before I can even put my arm around his shoulders, he shifts to drape his legs over my lap, curling into my side. His head settles over my heart, arms tightly wrapped around my waist, just like he did when he was little and needed comforting. My own arms respond automatically, pulling him close as my cheek rests on the top of his head. There's a scent to him that immediately comforts me, taking me back to the countless hours I'd held him as a baby. No matter whatever else happened in my life, he was never anything but a beacon of hope and love to guide me through the storms.

So much has changed between us since that day at the well. The day Emma and Snow came home. The day that things changed so irrevocably for my little family. Who am I kidding? That was the day my family came into being. Yes, they started to leave me behind in their haste to make sure Charming was saved from the sleeping curse, but Emma came back and made sure I went with her and Henry. And once Charming was all right, I was left behind again in the fervor of celebrating the reunion of their entire clan.

"I love you, Mommy," he whispers, pulling me from my thoughts yet again. "I just want you to be better."

It takes a moment to realize that the wetness under my cheek is my own tears, rather than anything wrong with him. "Oh, Henry," I reply just as quietly, "I love you more than I ever thought was possible after…" I can't even finish the sentence, not wanting to bring up the traumas he suffered at Daniel's hands in the stables. He didn't deserve that. Neither of them did. Just another instance where I could have prevented torment for those I love, but didn't.

The faint burning sensation along my temples makes itself known again, forcing me to suck in a sudden breath. I won't let the pain overwhelm me again, not with Henry here. I don't want to lose time or consciousness again. That's getting terribly old and terrifying. Slow, deep breaths, Regina. You can beat this, damn it! It doesn't control you, _you_ control it. You're stronger than this, you've survived worse.

"Mom?" Henry sounds worried. "I'm gonna go get Emma, okay? Just stay right here."

Before I can do more than nod, he's on his feet and heading out the door. I feel cold where once his warmth pressed into my body. Curling in on myself, I scoot into the corner of the couch for the safety of a structure behind me. One deep breath is followed by a second as my forehead falls to rest on my knees. If Charming hadn't killed Owen that day in the cannery, I'd love to give him a taste of his own medicine for what he's done to me.

"Gina?"

There's Emma's soft, worried voice. I'm getting so tired of hearing it. I just want this to be over with. Maybe the cricket's right about needing to get more drastic in taking care of my obvious emotional deficiencies. Taking another deep breath, I lift my head to gaze into her mossy eyes and try to smile.

"I'm so tired, Emma."

"I know," she says softly as she sits next me. "You take all the energy you need from me, okay? I've got an apparently endless supply of hope and all that. I think you said it was because of my idiot Charming genes invading the Savior thing, right?"

I laugh at that, the sound bordering on a hysterical sob. Without hesitation, she pulls me close, practically into her lap, an echo of how Henry'd been sitting in my lap. Only this time he's right there behind me, resting his head against my left shoulder blade, still trying to take comfort in the sound of my beating heart. Their arms wrap around me, surrounding me in the love that I've always looked for, the love I thought I'd have with Daniel. I cannot let this post-torture insanity rob me of my greatest hope, my happy ending. Tears slip down my cheeks faster now. They suck into my mouth with each gasped intake of oxygen until all I can taste is salt and fearful regret.

"Shh, it's okay, Gina." Emma's voice, steady and full of love and hope. "Just let it all out. I'm right here, so's Henry. We're not going anywhere, not now, not ever. You're safe now. I swear it on my life."

  
  
Art by [boomboombooom](http://boomboombooom.tumblr.com)


	4. Atychiphobia

_atychiphobia  
\-- (n) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough_

(07-19-2013)

Once again, it's time for my weekly check-in with Snow and the war council. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that I fear what could actually be said about me, I'd skip these fruitless meetings all together. But I'll be damned if I let them level charges against me without the chance to defend myself. That they force me to wait until the end of the meeting for this information is just cruel. I hated them when I was the mayor in name as well as in deed, but at least then I had more control over my life and the way the meetings went. Of course, I also had several pages of randomly scrawled notes and doodles. It wasn't like I actually paid attention to anything said in those meetings. Well, not until Emma became Sheriff and started attending them. Things began changing then, to say the least.

"Is this what you always do in meetings, Regina?"

My head snaps up in surprise and I only miss the collision of my skull with Snow's thanks to her quick reflexes. She is standing behind me, leaning over my shoulder, and rests one hand on the back of my chair for balance, the other on the table. I can feel every set of eyes in the room on me and curse the blush heating up my skin. I hate her nearness almost as much as I hate the way I have to get her approval for everything. No, I think I hate her nearness even more. Despite the black spot on her heart, she still carries a very specific scent of innocence that all babies and small children have. It sickens me to know that she did what she did to my moth-- No, Regina, we're not going to go there. Not today, not ever. Not if I want to retain any semblance of freedom for the rest of my life.

"Only the boring ones, dear," slips from my lips in a very familiar sneer. Fall back on the classics, Regina, that always works, doesn't it? "So yes, I suppose that would mean all of them. There was a lot of droning on about things I didn't care to hear over those twenty-eight years."

"Well, at least now I can see some of the force behind Henry's penchant for doodling."

There's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. The expression reminds me far too much of my own mother at her most devious while training me in how to be a proper lady. The comparison sends a shiver of dread down my spine, chased closely by a surge of anger that Snow is still alive and apparently forgiven by the rest of this town, but I am still reviled and my mother lies dead in her bier.

"What do you want, Snow?"

She just studies my face for a moment or two. I hate it, but I withstand the scrutiny, not willing to break our eye contact and show my weakness to her. Not even when I can feel every other pair of eyes in the room on me. On us, I suppose is a better way of saying it. Anything between the two of us draws attention. That's probably my fault, too. Only two of those gazes feel even the slightest bit sympathetic toward me: Emma and Archie. It hurt to hear them both talking about this damned hell that I'm living right now. Granted, Emma's words were only dimly echoing Archie's assessment by virtue of living with me. But I was able to get some small modicum of satisfaction out of the grimace on Snow's face when Emma did mention things happening as a result of us living together and being in this relationship. It was the only bright spot to this damned meeting so far. Well, besides the fact that I get to continue my job for another week.

"When did I get reduced to only planning my life a week at a time?"

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Fear courses through my veins as I see sympathy -- no, it's pity, it's _always_ pity -- in Snow's mossy-brown eyes at my words. The mood of the room changes then, an oppressive sense of superiority and false sympathy that sucks the breath from my lungs. And then I'm on my feet, stumbling briefly as my chair falls and skids away behind me. I don't even grab purse or phone as I turn and run blindly from the room. Thank the gods, I know this building like the back of my hand, allowing me the opportunity to run headlong to get as far away as possible.

As I pass through the door, I can hear a cacophony of sound erupt behind me. People calling out my name, chairs scraping back in the confusion. It doesn't matter. I can't stay there and let them regulate my life into what they want of me for another moment. I don't care if they take my job from me. It doesn't matter anymore.

Footfalls sound behind me. I think it's Emma's boots, but suddenly all I hear is the heavy sound of Owen's boots as he ran after me that one time I managed to escape him in the warehouse. Suddenly the halls of City Hall feel like the maze that was the corridors of the warehouse. Fear burns white hot along my nerves, my temples burn as badly as they did when he powered up that damned machine and tried to kill me.

*****

"Damn it, Regina!"

She sounds angry. She sounds like Mama when I did something wrong. I quietly scoot back further into the dark corner I found. I'm not even sure where I am right now. I _think_ I'm in a storage closet of some sort, but my vision keeps swimming and my location changes to the stables or the closets I hid in as a child to escape Mama's wrath. I feel lightheaded; it must be the shallow breathing.

"Come on, Gina, _please_? I'm not mad at you, none of us are."

I shake my head, tasting blood as I clamp down on my bottom lip to keep from whimpering. Mama used to say the same thing. She'd lure me out with words like that and, when I got out of my hiding spot, she'd grab me and punish me. No, it'll happen again. Have to stay quiet. Have to stay hidden. Have to stay safe.

"Gina, I'm worried about you." Her voice breaks slightly. "I just want you to be okay. I love you, remember? Love means that we worry about each other and want to make sure we're both happy and healthy."

I can hear the tears in her voice now. Emma doesn't cry like that. Not in public, not where someone can see her being vulnerable. This is bad. If she's that upset, this is very bad. Licking my lips, I move slowly and quietly from my hiding spot. I don't even worry about the dirty, smudged tear tracks on my face. I only want to make Emma stop crying. I hate it when she cries, almost as much as I hate it when Henry cries. They're supposed to be happy, they're my happy ending. They can't cry. If this is my fault…

"E-Emma?" I whisper, still afraid that Mama might find us.

She turns then, and I can see the tears glistening on her lashes just before she pulls me into a bone-crushing bear hug, burying her face in my neck. "Don't you _ever_ do that again," she murmurs against my skin. "Why didn't you come out when I called for you?"

"You sounded mad," I finally mumble, cheek rubbing against her hair. "Like when Mama used to get mad at me. I got scared."

"My god, what in the hell did they do to you?" She leans back to look at me, then kisses my forehead. "It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that we get you home where I know you feel safe."

A soft whimper escapes my lips at her kiss to my forehead. It's so much like what Daddy used to do when he'd find me after Mama's punishments. Daniel used to do that, too. If I thought I could do it right now, I'd use my magic to take us home immediately. But even as terrified as I still am right now, I know that I don't have decent enough control over my magic to do that.

"Emma?" Snow's voice filters down the corridor to where we are; my body tenses out of habit at the sound. "Did you find her yet?"

Emma kisses my forehead again, gently rubbing my back, and whispers, "It's okay, Gina. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." Clearly her throat, she turns her head to yell down the hall. "I've got her, Snow. Just-- Just get everybody cleared out, okay? I'm taking Regina home and I'm not going to let anyone stop me."

Relief floods me as I hear Snow's affirmative reply, followed by the scuffling of distant feet. Gods, it sounds like the whole town was out looking for me. But through it all, Emma stands there and holds me, gently rubbing my back and murmuring soft words of nonsense that are more soothing than anything else I've felt in a long time. My head falls to her shoulder, arms clutching at her waist, and each breath fills my lungs with the very familiar and comforting scent that is wholly Emma Swan. My eyelids flutter shut for just a moment as I feel my anxiety beginning to ease the tight bands around my chest.

  
  
Art by [boomboombooom](http://boomboombooom.tumblr.com)

*****

The next thing I know, I wake up in our bed, squinting against the shaft of late afternoon sun that slips past the curtains. The buttery soft texture of the tank top Emma wears to bed is under my cheek, the comforting familiarity accompanying the faint thrumming of her heartbeat and breathing. My jaw cracks at the yawn that suddenly overtakes me, making my eyes water at its intensity. This elicits a soft chuckle that vibrates and rumbles under my cheek, and I tighten my grip around her waist.

"Hey, beautiful," she murmurs before her lips brush the top of my head. "How you feeling?"

"Like I could sleep for another decade and still be tired." I hate admitting the weakness, even to Emma, but I promised her no more lies when we decided to make a go of this relationship. Feeling sheepish, I shift to slip a leg between hers. The change in position allows me to raise my head and brush my lips against hers. "I love you, Emma. I'm not sure I deserve you, but I love you."

She repeats the gentle kiss, nipping at my bottom lip. "You deserve love in your life, Gina. That you've chosen to share it with me is one of the best things that's ever happened to me. To you, too, I guess, because you chose to follow Daniel's advice and find love again."

There's a sharp sting in my heart at the memory of the last time I saw my first love. Almost immediately afterward, the sensation is muted and replaced by the knowledge that I was right in heeding his last words. "What better way to honor his memory and what he meant to me, right?"

"That's right."

Her smile is practically incandescent, warming me to the very marrow in my bones. I shift slightly again, resting up on my left arm as my right hand moves to cup her cheek. Eyes traveling over her face, I memorize her again, never wanting to forget what I've been blessed with a second time in my life. Third, if I include Henry coming into my life. The smile curving her lips makes her eyes crinkle in the corners, pupils dilating just slightly as she turns away from that shaft of sunlight to face me more fully.

"My beautiful Savior," I murmur, leaning in to kiss her again, lips gliding against hers in a form of body memory that I will never get tired of. She moans softly, lips parting as the tip of her tongue glides out to skim across my bottom lip. The invitation is one I simply cannot ignore as my fingers glide back into the tangle of her hair on the pillow. My own lips part to invite her tongue inward, relief flooding me as she complies with my unspoken request. Time feels like it's stopped as we spend long minutes lost in kisses, tongues languidly playing tag to explore each other's mouths. Her hands move to grip my hips, a soft moan escaping her as my knee shifts to press higher in the vee of her thighs.

My teeth have a mind of their own as they nip along the strong jaw to reach her ear, giving way to let my tongue trace the shell of her ear. This causes a distinct whine of her nickname for me, repeated more sharply when I lay claim to her earlobe, tugging it gently between my teeth. The second whine is accompanied by the obvious bucking of her hips, her fingers tightening against the material covering my hips. Fueled by her reactions, my fingers tighten in her hair, tugging her head to the side to expose the pale column of her throat to my lips and teeth. Beginning at the top of her ear, my mouth maps a trail of sucking kisses and sharp nips all the way down to the hollow at the base of her throat. Once there, I'm mesmerized by the wild flutter of her pulse, delighted to know that I've caused this reaction in her.

"Gina…"

Chuckling darkly, I glance up at her before dragging my tongue up the center of her throat and over her chin until I reach her lips for a hungry kiss. One of her hands rakes up my back, nails burning a trail I can feel even through the thin cotton of my nightshirt. Those strong, sure fingers tangle in my hair, pressing our faces closer as she attempts to deepen the kiss. Her clear need to take control of our lovemaking sparks a flood of desire racing down my spine to pool deep in my belly. But I'm not quite ready to give over to her just yet, growling as my knee presses close again to be met with the definite sensation of wet cotton. My hand glides down from her hair to rest over her heart for a moment before continuing its path to the hem of her top. Easing underneath the well-worn cotton, my fingers map out firm abs and ribs before my palm covers her breast.

"Mmm," I purr against her lips as her nipple presses up into my hand. "Someone's anxious to say hello."

"You think?" she asks, one eyebrow quirking at me. The attempt at sarcasm is lost in the dilated pupils staring back at me with such desire and love. She sucks in a breath when my thumbnail glides across her nipple, the flesh puckering up even more under my touch. "Damn it, Gina! Quit teasing!"

I kiss her again, a languid exploration of her mouth, as I pay loving attention to her taut nipple and its surrounding flesh. Her chest arches up into my touch, hips rolling against my knee for any kind of contact to sate her need.

I will not stop until my beloved is boneless with sexual satisfaction and understands my need to make her utterly happy.


	5. Meraki

_meraki  
\-- (n) the soul, creativity, or love put into something; the essence of yourself that is put into your work_

(07-23-2013)

Sometimes I wish my weekly meetings -- Tuesdays for magical therapy, Thursdays for emotional therapy, Fridays for war council briefings -- were changed up a bit. But not today. Things feel good today. They have for the last few days since the horrendous affair that was the last war council meeting on Friday. I've not been able to meet the gazes of anyone that was in that room, nor anyone they know. Except for Emma. And Archie. He stopped by yesterday to talk to us about where to go with my therapy at this point. Even I can't deny that something needs to be done. Emma and I have been doing some research into the options he gave us. For the first time in my life, I feel like I truly have a choice in how to proceed with fixing myself. It's an incredible feeling, but it's also terrifying as hell.

"Please, Your Majesty, you need to concentrate."

The blue bug annoys me most days, angers me on occasion still, especially when she gets that sanctimonious attitude aimed at me and my magic. Magic or mundane, she has this superiority that grates on my nerves. And yet, there's a small part of me that truly wants to believe that she has my best interests at heart, despite never once coming to my aid when I needed her and her fairies.

" _Regina_!"

That jerks my eyes up to meet her horrified gaze, then I follow her line of sight to see the hem of my sweater sleeve is smoldering. Before I can even take another breath, the material begins to char under a small flame that burns bright and hot against the deep plum material. It takes another moment or two of watching in fascination as it melts the fibers into a blackened mess against the flesh of my inner wrist before the pain actually registers. And then I'm frozen, unable to move beyond my fingers clenching into a tight fist.

She shifts to reach for the pitcher of water, murmuring a soft spell as a bubble of the liquid surrounds my hand and wrist to douse the flames and soothe the burns. A single tear slips down my cheek as relief floods my excited nerves, allowing me the opportunity to relax the muscles in my hand. Blinking hard a few times, my vision clears and lets me study the burn on my wrist. It looks like a splatter of paint fallen from a great height. The water bubble is quite good at masking the pain.

"I've felt worse."

"That's not the point, Regina." There's an almost indulgent tone to her voice. Could she possibly be warming up to me? Or is this just more sanctimonious pity for the Evil Queen who's lost her mind? "You know, everyone can see that you've changed. Well, anyone who wishes to see it."

"And therein lies the crux of the problem, bu-- Blue." I hate that I stumble over her name, but I can't expect anyone to truly offer me any second chances if I'm just the bitch they all expect me to be. Besides, it's just too exhausting. It always has been, but especially so since Owen's experiments in attempted murder. "No one seems to want to see it."

Her fingers easily pierce the bubble of water to stroke along the burn marks, further alleviating the lingering pain. Only when I sigh in relief does the bubble disappear again, leaving behind a series of ugly red marks marring my skin and a large section of cuff burned away.

"I think today we should work on your healing magic," she says with a gentle smile that actually reaches her eyes. "Tap into the light magic that you know is buried deep inside. Emma knows you have it, and so do I."

The words tumble past my lips a millisecond after registering in my mind. "How do either of you know that? I was the Evil Queen, I did countless evil things, including casting the curse. How do any of you know that I'm honestly worth redeeming?"

"You asking that question and truly wanting the answer is how I know. Regina, your role as the Evil Queen was fated long before you were born. The exact details were transmuted from the original prophecy, but the Dark One knew the Oracle's words just as much as I did. There were circumstances that could be changed, but not many, and I did what I could. It just ended up more mutated than I'd expected because of the bond between you and the Savior."

That brings me up short to stare at her, heart pounding in my throat. "What do you mean? What about the bond between us?"

She smiles at me, settling in the chair next to me as she taps my forearm below the burn. "Heal this first with your light magic, then I'll tell you all I know and am able to tell you."

My eyes narrow, studying her elfin face for a long moment, searching for duplicity that I just can't find. Sighing, I scrub at my face wearily and nod. "All right."

My eyes focus on the burn, breath coming in slow, deep repetitions. The longer I stare at the marks, the less it looks like a paint splatter and more like Emma's tattoo intertwined with a horseshoe. Everyone I have ever loved has been connected to one or the other: Daddy, Mama, Daniel, Emma, even Henry to an extent. My eyes flutter shut as I feel that lightness seeping out from the depths of my heart, where there's still a kernel of good left amid the vast darkness. The warmth moves through me with each breath, moving from my chest and out into my entire body, anchoring me in the moment and the energies surrounding me. Emma's face suddenly appears in my mind's eye, smiling in encouragement. My wrist begins to burn again, but it's different this time. I can feel the skin and nerves working to heal themselves.

"My god, Regina!"

I want to look up at her startled words, but focus on healing the burns. I will show Reul Ghorm and the rest of these damned people that I have changed. I'm tired of being the bad guy all the time. I just want what I've always wanted: my family and my happy ending. They're one and the same in my eyes. The burn finally fades back into my skin with a slight shiver down my spine, and I open my eyes with a smile. When I glance up at the other woman, there's awe in her eyes as she stares at me. Okay, that's a little frightening frankly.

"What is it, Reul Ghorm? Did I grow a unicorn's horn in the middle of my forehead?" I sigh heavily, rubbing at said forehead in frustration that I've resorted to defensive sarcasm again.

"Regina, look at your wrist."

Glancing down, I see the skin mostly healed to the shiny pink of new scar tissue. And then I realize that the scars are now an outline in the shape of Emma's tattoo with a horseshoe in the center. A glance to the right sucks the air from my lungs in a loud whoosh. Burned into the oak tabletop is an exact replica of the scar currently on my wrist, the one that matches Emma's tattoo. The center of the flower contains a horseshoe, and within the five petals, five words are inscribed.

_Help me help myself. Please._

"What--" I'm on my feet instantly, backing away from the table in confused fear. And then the laughter starts. It's low and rumbling deep in my gut, working its way up past diaphragm and throat to explode out of my mouth. The sensation is so strong, I have to grip the edge of the table for fear of falling to the ground. When Blue's lyrical laugh joins mine, there's a hint of hysterics there, but it feels _right_. Eventually we both calm down, gasping for air as we settle into our chairs. "Well, somehow I don't think this will fit in my folder of doodles for Archie."

She makes a strangled noise that must be the result of trying to hold back more laughter. It doesn't work, setting us both off again. I suppose there are worse things to bond over.

  
  
Art by [boomboombooom](http://boomboombooom.tumblr.com)

*****

By the time I hear Emma's distinctive footsteps coming down the hallway of the convent, I'm beginning to feel more comfortable in Reul Ghorm's presence than I ever have before. That thought both comforts and terrifies me in rather equal amounts, though the comfort may be primarily due to the fact that I know the session is coming to a close and Emma is almost here to take me away for our standing lunch date.

"Let's try that once more, Your Majesty, before we're finished for the week."

Rolling my eyes, I chuckle softly. "You realize that you can call me Regina, right? I'm no longer a queen and never will be again."

"You're _my_ queen and that's all that matters."

The words don't sound right, nor did I see her lips move at all. Then I see a new shadow on the table. Raising my head, I feel the broad smile stretch my lips upward. Before I can stop myself, I'm on my feet and racing into her arms for a tight hug. There's a part of me that's utterly mortified to be showing this weakness in front of Reul Ghorm, but I don't care. I hate all of this deep searching into every little corner of my psyche. Emma and Henry are the only things that can make me feel whole again.

"Hey, babe," she murmurs, lips brushing against my cheek. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry," I reply just as softly. "It-- It was an accident."

She tenses slightly under me, arms holding me closer around my waist. "What was?"

"The table."

Without breaking our grip on each other, we shift so that she can see the table more easily. She whistles softly and presses a kiss to my forehead before moving to get a closer look at my handiwork. I follow behind her, biting my bottom lip nervously, and rub absently at my left wrist. She moves even closer, free hand reaching out to trace the design etched into the wood by magical fire.

"This looks…" She glances at Reul Ghorm before meeting my gaze again. "Was this you?" Before I can answer, I see her eyes dart down to my wrist. "Gina, what happened? Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing." I try to explain, but she grabs for my hand, pulling it closer to gently trace the scar tissue on my wrist. "We were working on me defaulting to light magic, which I associate with my love for you and Henry. Somehow that translated into me setting my sweater on fire and--"

"You set your sweater on _fire_?" She turns to stare at the silent third person in the room. "What the hell, Blue? Why didn't you stop her?"

"I did! And I helped guide her through the healing process. That's when the table happened."

Emma's eyes go back to the table, a finger tracing the whole design, letters and all. "This is gorgeous, Gina." She suddenly smiles at the fairy. "So… How much to replace the table? I mean, this has to come home with us as soon as possible. It's no longer useful to you here, and I think it's something that we need to have at home. Or-- Or maybe we can have Marco cut it out somehow, so we can frame it. He'd probably be able to make something else out of the rest of the wood, right?"

Bowled over by her infectious enthusiasm, I reach for my purse and pull out my checkbook. "What would be an appropriate amount to 'donate' to the convent to replace the table? We can work out getting it delivered later, but I don't want to walk out of this building without the certainty that it's mine."

Reul Ghorm has the good grace look absolutely shocked by my request, stammering out an answer about needing to research that information, but I shake my head and write out a check for five thousand dollars and hand it to her with a flourish.

"Your Ma-- Uh, Regina, this is far too much money for this table," she says, trying to hand the check back.

I shake my head, feeling much better than I'd expected to. "Then consider the rest of it a donation to upgrade anything that the convent needs. It's a gift and I won't allow you to return a single penny of it."


	6. Sciamachy

_sciamachy  
\-- (n) a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadow_

(08-15-2013)

It's been three weeks since Archie and I implemented the new variables to my therapy. It hasn't been easy, but the zone outs and lost time seem to be happening less and less often. Emma has promised me that as soon as we know the therapy's successful, we'll be getting my scar inked in. She's even agreed to add the horseshoe to the middle of hers to match mine. I've even been talked into letting Henry get one when he's older, if he still wants it.

"So tell me, Regina, how are you feeling today?" He's not wasting any time today. I know why. I'm just worried about that part of the session. "Any new zone outs since we last spoke?"

I fidget in my spot on the couch, only stopping when Emma's hand settles on my thigh. My own hand covers hers as I finally meet Archie's gaze. "Sometimes it feels very strange to be where I am now. My temples still ache painfully and cause horrendous headaches when touched. It doesn't matter how many relaxation techniques I try beforehand, it's a pain that makes me want to vomit at the slightest touch."

"I've even tried when she's deeply asleep," Emma says softly. "You know, like we'd talked about. Every single time, it ends the same way. She jerks awake, crying out in pain, and curls up in a tiny ball. When I finally get her back to sleep, she's restless the rest of the night with nightmares that she can't remember the next morning."

Archie nods slowly, frowning as he scratches more words on the yellow legal pad. "And you still don't want to try the hypnosis, Regina?"

"No! How many times do I have to explain to you that I don't want anyone to have that kind of control over me?" I groan softly as my left temple throbs ominously, and force myself to take a few deep breaths before I speak again, attempting a calmer tone. "As we've discussed already, I've no wish to let anyone employ a method of coercion that my mother regularly used to keep me compliant."

Yes, that particular revelation startled all of us when we first discussed the option of hypnosis and regression therapy. I can't believe that I'd forgotten the way she would immobilize me with magic and force me to obey her, going so far as to dictate what and how I would reply to her.

"All right." Archie's voice is softer than normal and I actually find a modicum of solace in his smile. "I just thought I'd see if anything had changed with that option. You've reversed your thinking on other things regarding your therapy."

"I can admit to changing my mind on many things, but this is one I just don't think I can. I'm sorry, Archie, but this has to be a hard and implacable no."

He nods and writes something else on the pad. This allows me a moment or two of quiet to regroup again. Emma's hand shifts to wrap around my shoulders. Without thought, I drop my head to her shoulder, sighing softly as her fingers move up under my hair to massage the muscles at the base of my skull. It's a comforting sensation, even as she forces the stiff flesh to relax, and my eyes flutter shut. For just a moment, I can forget that I'm stuck with this horrible condition that no one can seem to explain or cure. No, it's not life-threatening, not in the classic sense of the term, but it's debilitating in its own right and a burden to my family.

"Shh, it's okay, babe," Emma murmurs, breath stirring my hair. "Just take a deep breath and try to relax for me. I'm right here and I'm not planning on going anywhere."

*****

  
  
Art by [boomboombooom](http://boomboombooom.tumblr.com)

Fear floods my senses as we get closer to the family crypt, stopping me in my tracks about ten feet from the door. "I don't think I can do this."

Emma's grip on my hand tightens as she comes around to face me, blocking my view of the doors. "Look at me, Gina." Her voice is soft, just enough steel to break past the growing hysteria bubbling under the surface. "Come on, let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours. You can do this. You are _not_ alone, not in the slightest. Archie and I are right here to help you however you need it. You know this is what needs to be done. The ghosts can't control you anymore, Regina. You're stronger than they are."

A tear slips past my lashes as her words surround me in a protective shell of love. I revel in the sensation, knowing she won't willingly abandon me to flounder through this hell I've been fighting. After a moment or two that feel far longer, I straighten and meet her gaze before turning to face Archie, who's standing next to the door. I nod once and squeeze Emma's hand, then step around her to make my way to the doors of the mausoleum. Pushing the door open, I take another breath and enter the building, taking a few seconds to let my eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting within. I am aware of Emma and Archie coming in after me, also getting used to the lack of sunlight in this building of stone, magic, and tears.

My fingers move to brush at a faint layer of dust on Daddy's bier before placing a red rose and a calla lily on it. "Hello, Daddy." My lips press lightly to the cold marble, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I miss you. I can never forgive myself for hurting you, for disappointing you as I did."

After a moment or two, I move to the other, newer bier next to it. Tears sting in their desire to escape, but I won't let them. Not yet. A matching rose and lily rest atop the more pristine marble surface. "Hello, Mama. I--" The words catch in my throat, unable to pass that same lump that always appears when I visit this place now, and my temples throb ominously.

"You can do this, Gina." Emma's right there behind me, kissing my cheek as her arms wrap around my waist. "I'm right here, okay? Just talk to her. Tell her how you feel. She can't hurt you anymore."

Leaning back into her touch, I soak up as much of the love and support as I possibly can before nodding and stepping away from her. My back is cold instantly, missing her comforting warmth, but I won't back down. I need to be better, I can't let this continue.

"Just talk to your father first, Regina," Archie says softly, his voice startling me a bit. "Tell him what you wish you could have told him when he was alive. Picture him in front of you--"

"You hurt me, Daddy," I say, eyes closing briefly. When I open them again, he's standing in front of me. He looks just like he did that last day before I took his heart. If I reached out, could I touch him? Would he be real enough to feel like warm flesh and bone again? "You never truly protected me. She always hurt me and-- And you _never_ stopped her. You let her hurt me, then you'd coddle me afterward when you bandaged my wounds. Why didn't you protect me, Daddy?"

I dimly hear Emma ask Archie if this is appropriate for what we're supposed to be doing today, but don't pay attention to his reply as Daddy takes a step forward, a mournful look on his face.

"Sweetheart, it's not like that. I did everything I could to protect you. Every time your mother hurt you, I did my best to stop her. I tried to get her to hurt me instead. You never deserved the treatment she gave you."

"Still as spineless and pathetic as always, Henry?" Mama's voice startles me, but she's standing there next to Daddy now, sneering at him like she always did. "I had so hoped you would grow out of that when Regina finally became the queen she was meant to be."

I shake my head then, taking a step back. "I never _wanted_ to be a queen, Mama. I never wanted _any_ of the things you wanted for me. They didn't make me happy. Why could you never see that I wanted something different for my life?"

She laughs derisively. "It was never your life to begin with, Regina. How many times do I have to tell you that?" She stalks closer, pushing Daddy back out of the way to stand directly in front of me. Her fingers dig into my skin as she cups my chin tightly. "You were born to be a queen, Regina, and I did everything to make you one. All the lessons, all the punishments, arranging for you to meet Snow--"

My temples flare with pain at her words. "Wait! You _admit_ to arranging that, Mama? Why would you do such a thing? What if I hadn't been in that meadow with Daniel for my lesson? You could have gotten her killed! You truly _are_ a monster."

"No, my dear girl, I'm not the monster. You are. Everything I did was for your benefit and mine, and it was done without my heart. Look at all of the atrocities you performed while your heart still beat in your chest, turning blacker by the minute as your hatred and need for revenge grew stronger." She shakes her head sadly. "Now which one of us is the monster, Regina?"

"No." I shake my head, pulling away from her touch to begin pacing. "No, that's not true. What-- Why are you being like this, Mama? What about when you had your heart again? You said I would have been enough."

That dangerous cackle echoes around the room, nearly deafening me. "How many times was I able to get you to agree to things for me by appearing to be contrite and sincere? You are the most gullible child I have ever met. That's saying a lot, given that we both know Snow White rather well."

"What? No, that's not possible! You got your heart back. I put it in your chest. You _smiled_ at me. That was genuine, Mama. You've never smiled at me like that before."

She steps close again, hands moving rapidly to cup my face. "You'll never truly learn, will you? Such a willfully disrespectful child. Mother will have to punish you and remind you of your lessons again."

Her hands moved up the sides of my face, index and middle fingers pressing into each temple. That entirely ungentle touch sends such a sharp jolt through my throbbing skin, it takes my breath away. As I try to wrench away from her touch, one hand pressing against her chest, I can feel a tendril of love and acceptance brush against my own heart, and I hear a soft voice in my head.

_Don't believe the lie, Regina. I had my heart when I died. This isn't really me. Let this go._

"Mama? Mama, please…" Tears blur my vision as I can feel the magical control being exerted on my temples and my mind, something I haven't felt since just before I married Leopold. "Please, don't do this, Mama. I'll be good, I promise."

"You'll never be good enough," she says with a sneer.

The pressure in my head increases until I want to scream from the pain thundering down every nerve. Suddenly, I'm not sure if that painful pressure is from Mama's torture or Owen's. No matter what I try, it won't stop, then the screaming starts. When I realize it's my own voice, I get angry. I swore I'd never let anyone control me like this again.

"No, Mama! I _am_ good enough." I force the words out past tightly clenched teeth. That sensation of love and support returns, filling me with the resolve to prove myself.

_That's right, my love. You can break free of this. I_ do _love you, Regina._

Pulling on that same well of anger and power that allowed me to push her through the looking glass all those years ago, I work to resist her torture again. My energy reserves utterly depleted in the battle for control of myself and my mind, I succumb to the blackness overwhelming my vision.

*****

When reality finally intrudes upon the blessed darkness of oblivion, I moan softly. "Wha--?"

"Shh. Just relax, Gina."

Emma. That's my Emma's voice. I can't find the strength to open my eyes yet, temples throbbing almost as strongly as when Owen had first tortured me. Where are Mama and Daddy? Is this all a trick of Mama's to get me to do what she wants again? A sob escapes, the ache of rejection and failure searing into my chest yet again.

"No…"

"Hey," she says, voice even closer this time, and I can feel the warmth of her next to me. Why am I so cold? "I'm right here. You're safe now, Gina. They can't hurt you anymore. I won't let them."

Warm lips press against my forehead, silky hair brushing my face and neck. I'm not sure how, but I raise a hand to clutch at her shirt tightly. "Don't leave me? So afraid…"

"Never going to leave you again, I promise. You're not alone. Henry and I are both here."

"Daddy's here?" I struggle to sit up, fighting a wave of nausea. "Where is he?"

"No, sweetheart, not your father. Henry, our son. He's right here with us, just as worried about you as I am."

"Mom?" That plaintive voice reminds me of the little boy I nursed through illnesses, booboos, and bad dreams. The little boy that loved me enough to make me want to be a better person. "Mommy, are you okay?"

A couple of slow, deep breaths actually help dispel enough of the nausea for me to open my eyes. The first thing that comes into view is a pair of bloodshot mossy eyes, tears caught in long lashes. "E-Emma?"

Before I can say anything more, she crushes me close to her in a tight hug, repeatedly kissing my face. "Oh babe, I'm so glad you're back with us. I thought we might have lost you after you blacked out."

"Still here," I mumble, holding tightly to her shirt. "Where's Henry? How did he get to the crypt? He's not supposed to be here for my session."

"We're not in the crypt. We're home now, Gina. Archie thought it would be a better idea for you to be at home when you regained consciousness. I called David to have him bring Henry home. He brought you up to our bedroom for me."

She pulls back just enough for me to recognize the muted tones of our bedroom. And then Henry is right there at my side, practically crawling on top of me in his effort to hug me. It takes a moment to realize that the dampness against my chest is his tears.

"Henry, it's okay. Mommy's right here." My arms find purchase around his body, rubbing his back gently. "Shh, it's okay. I'm going to be okay."

"Are you sure? You scared me when Emma and Archie brought you home. You wouldn't wake up for hours. It was--" A sob catches in his throat, and I feel my own throat tighten in sympathy. "It was like when Grandpa was under the sleeping curse."

"Yes, I’m sure, Henry. I'm sorry I scared you so much, but I'm okay. We're all going to be okay."

I have to believe my words are true, or I'll completely lose what little sanity I seem to have left.


	7. Epilogue: Kintsukuroi

_kintsukuroi  
\-- (n) (v.phr.) "to repair with gold"; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken_

(08-31-2013)

> _Sometimes I can hardly believe that I never had those debilitating losses of time more often during my life. Why was it that they lay dormant with those memories of Mama's torture until Owen thought he could electrocute the magic out of me until I died? Perhaps I'll never truly know._
> 
> _I still get the headaches and my temples are still tender, but it's nowhere that crippling pain from before. Making peace with what Mama did when she didn't have her heart has helped me tremendously. And using this option of journaling has also been a great help. I still find myself doodling that same phrase, but others have joined it, too. I make copies of those pages for Archie, but the full content of these journals is for me and me alone. Sometimes I let Emma read parts of it, but no one else. It makes me feel better to have a safe place to work out some of these issues running around in my head._
> 
> _Just yesterday at the weekly war council meeting, Snow made the announcement that I am no longer bound to my sessions with both Archie and Reul Ghorm as a condition of my continued employment. I've chosen to remain in therapy with Archie, both individually and in family sessions with Emma and Henry. I still have a long way to go to feel whole and truly sane, and I owe it to so many to prove that I truly can be the person I always wanted to be._

"Gina!" Emma's voice from the front door echoes down the hall to my office. "Get your sexy ass in gear! Daylight's a-wasting!"

Rolling my eyes, I replace the bookmark in my journal before sliding it and the pen back into the pouch that I keep both in. The pouch then goes into my travel bag. We're taking a drive out to the lighthouse today. It's on the far northern outskirts of Storybrooke, but it's become a symbol of my recovery, just as steadfast as the love Emma and Henry give me.

"Mom!"

A brief flare of anger surges before I take a deep breath and release it with my exhale. "Pick your battles, Regina," I mutter as I walk out of the room. I make a last check of the rooms on the main floor before smiling at my family.

"Aren't you ready yet, Gina?"

Glancing at my watch, I snort. "Emma, it's barely six-forty-five in the morning. We have time. It's not like we're leaving the state or anything like that. We're going up to the lighthouse. It's a half hour drive."

"And a three mile hike with some pretty steep switchbacks to get to the top of the cliff where the lighthouse is." I can feel her rolling her eyes as I step into the kitchen to verify the coffeemaker's off. "And if you want to hike down to that beach on the north side--"

"All right, all right!" I laugh at the twin looks of excitement on their faces as I step out of the kitchen again. "You have everything packed in the car? Cooler, extra clothes, blankets, towels?"

Now it's Emma's turn to laugh as she grabs my arm to tug me down the few steps and out the front door. Henry exchanges my zippered hoodie for my travel bag, running to stow the bag in the trunk with everything else.

"Dear gods, it looks like we're going camping for a week. This is supposed to be a day trip, Emma!"

"Always be prepared," she says, guiding me to the passenger's side of the car. "Boy Scout motto. And now, my lady, your chariot awaits."

"I know you do a lot of things that men normally do, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let you in the Boy Scouts." As I settle in the seat, a blush heats up my face at some of the things she actually does _better_ than most men. And I've been with my fair share over the years to know. "And thank you for using my Mercedes instead of that rust trap you call a car."

She rolls her eyes at my affectionate jibe, then leans over to press a kiss to my cheek before closing the door and jogging around to get into the driver's seat. "Everybody buckled up? This beast doesn't move until that happens." She quirks a brow at Henry, who buckles in, then at me until I follow suit. "All right. Family fun day can now commence."

"Um, Emma, I need you to do one thing for me before we go."

"Gina…" She drags out the letters of my name into two syllables. "I thought we were going to go by seven."

I glance down at my lap for a moment, debating what it is. "I just--" I sigh and shake my head, feeling foolish. "Never mind."

She tilts her head to the side and I can feel both her and Henry studying my profile. "No, what is it, Gina? We made a promise to be honest. Please don't lie and tell me it's nothing."

"I just wanted to take a bouquet of flowers out to the crypt. I know we normally do that on Wednesdays, but I just need to do this for Mama. It's silly, but it's something I need to do."

She grins and turns back to Henry. "Kid, did you put those flowers in the cooler like I told you?"

"Yep. Both bouquets are on the top of the cooler, just like you said."

I stare at both of them, feeling confusion wrinkling my forehead. "I don't understand."

"I was planning on us stopping out there on our way out, Gina. If we're going to do family day, we need to include your whole family, right? So there's two bouquets, one for each of your parents. Oh, David said that he'll water your flowers later this morning. I may have forgotten to mention that last night. So can we head out then?"

Nodding, I lean over to press a kiss to her cheek. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I'm pretty irresistible. Must be those Charming genes."

*****

"Gina? Babe, you coming to bed soon?"

Glancing up at her, I can see just how bloodshot her eyes are. The clock on my monitor confirms that it's well after the witching hour, but I'm still feeling too keyed up from the day. "It'll just be a few more minutes," I reply, motioning to my journal. "I promise. Why don't you wait on the sofa for me? I like it when you sit with me."

She grins sleepily and settles on the sofa, head propped up on one hand as she watches me. "I hope Henry told you good night before he headed up to shower. Little shit never came back down to say good night to me."

"Yes, he did. Now don't you fall asleep on me while I finish up here. I want to cuddle when we get upstairs."

She nods and hums something in reply, eyes already starting to flutter shut. She looks so damned adorable. My heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest from the love I feel for her. I would do anything for a smile from my Emma. Glancing back at the words filling the pages of my journal, I cap my pen and set it aside, slipping the ribbon in place without actually closing the book at all. I trust my family to leave it alone overnight.

"Emma?" I ask, standing and stretching gingerly before walking over to the couch. Yes, I'll be sore in the morning, but today was worth every single ache and pain I suffer tomorrow. "Come on, love, let's go to bed. I can finish in the morning."

We slowly make our way upstairs, and I feel exhaustion settling into my bones with each step. By the time we reach our bedroom, my own eyes are drooping and I'm practically dragging Emma with me. She shuffles to the bed, not even bothering to lose her flannel pajama pants, and settles to watch me change into my own nightshirt.

"Was today okay, Gina?" she asks, the words barely decipherable in her exhaustion.

"It was perfect, Emma," I reply, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "Just what we needed to reconnect as a family. Sweet dreams, my love. Tomorrow's another big day."

And as I drift off to sleep in my beloved's arms, I know that I have finally found my happy ending in Emma and Henry.


End file.
